


Son of Evil

by lanjingyeets



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Death, Evil king Kuro, Good servant Shiro, M/M, Minor Kotor, Shiro x Kuron, Shirocest, inspired by the Servant of Evil song, minor sheith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 09:15:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15045773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanjingyeets/pseuds/lanjingyeets
Summary: More cries were heard, more blood was poured. The  son of Evil turned around and walked away through a door by the throne, Shiro by his side. His hands were painted in the scarlet of blood, slowly dripping from his fingers to the floor. The servant thought that he would clean it later. He then saw the king stop walking, his shoulders shaking, and moved a couple of steps towards him, worried. «Your Majesty…» he whispered, not daring to touch him.«Never leave me, Shiro» was the monarch's answer, his voice firm. When he turned around, the servant was able to see his proud expression, his dark and wonderful eyes. His pale skin seemed to glow in the dark hallway, and he was so beautiful that it almost hurt.«Never, your Majesty» Shiro whispered, bowing his head.





	Son of Evil

«Come, kneel to me.»

Shiro slowly raised his head and glanced at the scene in front of his eyes; the light coming from one of the gorgeous windows hit his face and he quickly blinked, without looking away; the floor under his boots was slippery because of the wax, and for a single second he felt like falling. He didn't, though, and managed to keep his balance.

A man standing in front of him did lose his balance a little, and the way he knelt was ungraceful and awkward. Shiro heard a small snicker coming from his left, but he didn't look; he already knew what he'd seen. Those thin lips curved into a mischievous smile, barely covered by a hand; the dark hair let loose over narrow shoulders clothed in dark magenta velvet and beautiful, dark almond-shaped eyes looking coolly at the kneeling man.

«Lord Min, I've heard terrible news about you, this morning» a voice by Shiro's side said slowly, sweet as honey and caressing every single letter as one would do with a lover's name. The man trembled and shook his head; his voice was scratchy and high-pitched, ungraceful just like his look as he spoke. «You must have hear wrong, your Highness! I never, ever disrespected you! Your Highness, I beg you-»

Shiro felt nothing but pity towards him, as the  monarch at his side sneered. «My, my. I've yet to decide if that news is true, and you're already begging me for mercy. I must take that as a confirmation, then.» His voice was cheerful and innocent, as if he was choosing what to eat as a nibble.

Lord Min's face grew pale, his eyes lost focus and his arms stopped supporting his upper body. He fell on the waxed floor and hit his chin, but not a single whimper of pain left his trembling and disgusting mouth. All that left his fleshy lips was a cascade of pleas and desperate cries, his trembling body curling up on the purple and golden floor.

«Your Highness, I beg you! Spare my life and I'll eternally be loyal to you!» he cried, and as he shouted he disgustingly spat all around him, and Shiro's face scrunched thinking about the hours spent to make the floor shine.

The king raised a hand and the man stopped whimpering, his whole body trembling in fear. «I won't listen to another word coming from your filthy mouth» the monarch said in a bored tone, and with a shake of his hand guards were called; their strong fingers gripping Lord Min's limbs and dragging him outside of the majestic throne room. And then it was silent, at last.

Shiro lowered his head slightly and the monarch sighed tiredly, lowering his arm; his dark eyes were closed and his lips were pressed together in a line, the only sign of his discontent. With a fluid movement he turned his head, and a small sneer appeared on his face. «Shiro» he called expectantly, with that trace of innate power that the servant knew too well.

«Your Majesty» he murmured, lowering his head. The king glanced at him, always with that soft smile on his lips, innocence painted all over his face. «Will you kneel for me too?» he asked. Shiro smiled sweetly and nodded, moving away from the throne as the monarch stood up in order to be in front of him; only then he knelt, holding the king's strong hand in his and kissing its back.

On the  monarch's face the smile seemed to grow bigger, and he tilted his head. «You'll never leave my side, won't you?» he asked, voice as sweet as honey, looking at him with a face and expression that were just like his own. Shiro shook his head, returning the smile. «Even if the entire world becomes your enemy I'll protect you, your Majesty» he said.

«You will» the king answered, sighing contentedly and freeing his hand from the servant's gentle grip. «Let's go now. It's tea time.»

 

He was beautiful in the unique way that only he could be. His dark eyes, his mischievous, breathtaking eyes, the soft arch of his lips that looked like it was made of the purest of marbles, and his soft hair. His strong body was the most beautiful one Shiro had ever laid his eyes on- and as a servant he'd seen quite a few in the servants' rooms.

A servant's eyes shall never see so much of their lord, and Shiro knew he's dared to take more than a few indiscreet glances; had he been someone else, he'd be dead by then. Yet the  monarch let him, returning the glances through the mirror when the servant helped him get dressed at mornings.

«You can dare more, you know» he'd tell him when Shiro buttoned his silk shirt up, fingers as gentle as feathers, and the king would unbutton it just as quickly, the usual, mischievous sneer painted on his mouth as one of his hands rose to caress the servant's lower lip with a finger.

Shiro never dared. That was what he'd been taught since he was a kid, he shall never disrespect his king, in any way. That was why it was always the king the one who _dared_. Be it a kiss or touching, it was always the king the one to start and to end it.

It had always been like that; it had been like that since the day they'd met, when they were both children and the  prince had looked at him with those big brown eyes, the hint of his mischievous smile on his  face. «You look just like me!» he'd chirped poking at his cheek.

That had been the most interesting thing that had happened when they were little; finding out that there was a person that looked just like you had been a great discovery for the prince, and he'd had way too much fun exchanging his clothes with Shiro's.

But then the former king died, and at the  age of fourteen the prince had been crowned as the new monarch. Six years had passed since that day, and the  and cheerful prince had turned into a marvelous creature. An evil and spoiled king, but marvelous nonetheless.

And Shiro felt like he could love this heartless creature. And as a servant he didn't really have a choice, as his duty was to serve him and worship him, as the God he'd never prayed to.

For his beloved king, he would become evil without a second thought.

 

The king entered the bedroom with a tired sigh, raising his arms over his head and stirring. Shiro looked at him from above his book, following his steps as the monarch let himself fall over the soft duvet of his bed. «Is the meeting already over, your Majesty?» he asked quietly, turning a page from his book.

«It is because I decided so» the monarch sighed, turning to glance at him. The servant stared back at him for a few seconds and then humbly turned his head, making the king snicker and hide part of his face in the cushion. «You're always so submissive» he whispered, that sweet malice painted all over his  face.

«You like the submissive me, your Majesty» Shiro answered, and the monarch laughed. «I do, you're right. You're so _easy_ to control.»

He was crazy; but he loved him nonetheless.

«Shiro» called the king, and the servant looked back at him. The monarch sat on the bed and smiled, crossing his legs clothed in the finest blue velvet. «Call my name» he whispered, tilting his head to a side. Shiro bit his lip and lowered his head. «Your Majesty…»

«Shiro» the king singsonged, his voice now low and dangerous. «It's an order.»

The servant lowered his head and gulped, before whispering it.

«Kuro.»

The  monarch grinned mischievously and raised a hand. «You're right. Come here now.»

Shiro obeyed and moved close to his king, feeling his fingers caress his hair and his soft lips against the ear. «I like it when you call my name, Shiro» the monarch whispered, letting his fingers slide down the servant’s neck until they reached the coarse fabric of his shirt.

Shiro smiled softly and lowered his head, letting him play with his hair.

The monarch sighed and rested his head on the palm of his hand, the elbow propped against his thigh. With his free hand he pushed at the fringe and freed Shiro’s forehead from the dark locks. The servant didn’t move, eyes low and dark.

«Our resemblance will never stop to amuse me» the king whispered, tugging almost gently at Shiro’s hair to make him raise his head. The servant looked at him and the monarch smiled mischievously. It was like looking at his own reflection in a mirror, and to see such an evil grin on a face that looked _just like his own_ almost scared him. Almost, though. Because his king was evil, and so was he.

«I want you to kiss me» the king said, his grip on his hair becoming stronger, until a soft whine left Shiro’s lips. «Your Majesty…» he whispered, and the  royal shook his head. «I told you to kiss me, not to speak» he said with malice.

The servant slightly lowered his head and nodded. The grip on his hair became gentle again, and the king smiled when Shiro leant towards him and their lips met. It was an innocent kiss –after all, it was Shiro, not the king, the one who started it-, the servant’s mouth trembling and his hand pressed against the duvet, not daring to move more. He’d already dared more than he was used to.

«So submissive…» the king whispered on his mouth, putting a hand on Shiro's chest and pressing him against the mattress. The servant gasped and let both his hands rest on the duvet, the monarch's lips tracing his jaw with gentle kisses. He felt him smile, and one of his fingers outlined his hipbone from under the shirt. «Will you dare, today?» he asked, almost teasingly.

Shiro shook his head and his fringe covered his eyes. «You know I won't, your Majesty» he whispered. The king pinched his side, making him jolt. «Call my name, Shiro» he said in a commanding tone, letting his hand move lower, and lower.

«Your Maje-»

Shiro wheezed and gripped the duvet, when the monarch bit his neck. «Wrong choice of words» he whispered against his ear, voice dangerous and dark. The servant weakly shook his head and whispered his name again, and the king smiled and kissed him again.

Their clothes were quickly scattered across the dark floor -Shiro's poor and plebeian ones together with the king's rich and exquisite ones-, their bodies a mess of limbs and pants and sweat between the bed sheets. Kuro, the king, the powerful, on top; Shiro, the slave, the weak on bottom. Never daring to touch him; never daring to insult him in some way.

But for the king it was fine. As long as he obeyed and was loyal, for the king it was fine.

 

«Your Highness… the taxes are raising and raising in Capital City, the corpses by the roads are growing in number every day because they can't afford food to eat. If we don't cut on the expenses…»

«I don't care. Just burn the bodies, the fewer people, the more food there is» the king said, yawning bored. The Prime Minister raised his head and opened his mouth to reply, but the monarch glanced at him with his dark, dangerous eyes. «You dare answer back, you scum?» he whispered, and even Shiro at his side trembled, feeling the anger in his voice.

«I… I would never, your Highness» the Prime Minister stuttered, trembling head to toe, but the king raised a hand; there was no boredom or indifference in his gesture, this time. «Shut up, you're annoying!» he yelled, and silence fell over the big throne room, the noblemen and noblewomen stopping talking about their frivolous day.

The Prime Minister trembled in his place and lowered his head. Shiro held a sigh back and glanced at the monarch at his side. His expression was dark and dangerous, his eyes were like piercing pieces of ice and his beautiful lips were pressed in a thin line. «I should have you beheaded for your insolence» he said, and the Minister kneeled down, forehead pressed against the floor. «I beg you to spare my life, my Lord. I will never disregard you again» he implored.

«You should have thought about it _before_ you showed your irreverence» the king said in a cold voice. He had already raised his hand and was ready to give his orders to the guards, but Shiro was quickly to intervene.

«Your Majesty» he whispered, leaning towards the king. His cold, dark eyes darted towards him, but he didn't talk. The servant took it as a good sign to keep talking. «Your Majesty, I don't think it'll be a good idea to put him to death. As bad as it is, we still need him if we want to face this crisis.»

The monarch thought about it for a few seconds, and then turned his head back to the Prime Minister. «It seems like my servant is more clever than you, scum» he said coldly. The man just bowed his head and murmured a trembling «Thank you, thank you», and the king raised his hand again. «Do as I ordered. No food nor money will be given to the folk, and for those who ignore my words, the guillotine will be the only answer» he said firmly.

The Prime Minister bowed again and walked again. Shiro looked around and saw the dissatisfied expressions on the nobles' faces, could hear some whispers but couldn't recognize the words. He quickly glanced at the king at his side, and saw his unnerved expression, distorting his beautiful and fine traits. His long fingers were tapping on the stuffed armrest, creating a continuous and rhythmic sound. Tap, tap, tap, a nobleman turned his head and whispered something to the  boy at his side, a woman released a thin laugh and covered her red-painted lips with her fan.

They were all so arrogant and vain, so presumptuous in their fine clothes made of velvet and silk. They worshipped inexistent and artificial gods, forgetting who the real god -the one and only- was.

The monarch bit his lower lip until it started bleeding, red, perfect drops painting his mouth. «Shiro» he called in a whisper, and the servant quickly lowered his head, so that the  royal could talk into his ear. «Have the guards close all the doors to this room. No one must leave.»

«I will have it done right away, your Majesty» the servant murmured, moving away from his side. As he slightly turned his head, he saw the dangerous expression on the monarch's face and the way his eyes looked around the room, stopping on one nobleman or another every so and then.

The king's order was quickly conveyed to all the guards, and the doors to the throne room were closed. A few people seemed to notice and started to fall silent, glancing at the monarch, still sitting on his throne. Shiro reached the king's side again, and the royal raised his head, dangerous eyes looking around once again.

«Lord Cha» he called in the coldest voice. «It seems like you have a lot to talk about, back there.»

The same man Shiro had noticed earlier quickly turned to face the throne and bowed his head, a hand pressed against his chest. «I was just sharing my opinion about this whole, tragic situation, your Highness» he answered in a low, calm voice.

«Good, then» the king raised a hand and pointed at the wooden chair in front of him, a few meters away from the throne. «You know how it works» he said, his voice still glacial. «You want to talk, you sit there.»

The Lord took long, steady steps and reached the chair, sitting down and glancing at the monarch from a lower position. «Speak then» the king ordered.

«As you wish, your Highness» The man sat with his back straight, a look of certainty on his face. «With all due respect, your Highness, but I think you're committing a terrible mistake by leaving your people to die. After all, a king without his folk is nothing but a man.»

The monarch narrowed his eyes and his voice became low and terrible. «Say that again» he murmured, trembling in anger.

«Your Majesty» Shiro whispered, but the king just hushed him with a quick movement of his hand. The  royal stood up from his throne and walked to Lord Cha, looking at him from above. «You keep disrespecting me, you scum» he said with a trembling voice.

«I didn't intend to, your Highness» was the calm answer. The king held his breath and raised a hand in front of him. «Give me your sword» he ordered. The Lord seemed to hesitate, but in the end he obeyed. The monarch unsheathed the Lord's sword, his face unperturbed, and with a sudden motion of his wrist he buried a third of the blade in the man's chest.

Blood spurted from Lord Cha's mouth, and the first screams were heard. Women quickly moved away and some people tried to run away, but the doors were blocked by the guards. The king ignored everything that happened around him and removed the sword from the Lord's chest, making him fall to the ground in his own blood. «SHUT UP!» the monarch yelled, and silence fell again.

His shoulders were trembling, and so was his hand holding the sword. He still managed to raise it and point the tip of the weapon to Lord Cha's neck, drawing a thin, bloody line on the otherwise pale skin. «This is the place you should occupy» he said, his voice shaking in anger. «At my feet, begging for mercy as you die suffocating in your own blood.»

Lord Cha coughed and held the blade of his sword with his hand, ignoring the pain and the new blood. «You will be the one who'll die soon» he said weakly. «There's no place for the son of Evil in this land.»

«I am the God of this land!» the king shouted, but it was no use. The Lord had already died.

With a dissatisfied cry the monarch threw the sword away, looking around. The noblemen who were chatting just a few minutes before were looking at him with their hands on their own weapons, the noblewomen who were laughing over useless and boring things were crying silently and holding their hands close to their chests.

«Guards!» the king barked, and the watchmen moved towards him. «Kill everyone in this filthy room! Not a single person must live!»

«As you wish, your Highness!» the guards answered, and unsheathed their swords.

More cries were heard, more blood was poured. The   _son of Evil_ turned around and walked away through a door by the throne, Shiro by his side. His hands were painted in the scarlet of blood, slowly dripping from his fingers to the floor. The servant thought that he would clean it later. He then saw the king stop walking, his shoulders shaking, and moved a couple of steps towards him, worried. «Your Majesty…» he whispered, not daring to touch him.

«Never leave me, Shiro» was the monarch's answer, his voice firm. When he turned around, the servant was able to see his proud expression, his dark and wonderful eyes. His skin seemed to glow in the dark hallway, and he was so beautiful that it almost hurt.

«Never, your Majesty» Shiro whispered, bowing his head. The king raised his blood-stained hand and the servant quickly took a handkerchief from his pocket and used it to clean his long, delicate fingers. After a few minutes the tissue was red and unusable, but the  monarch's hands were immaculate and elegant as they usually were.

_Who would have thought that such delicate hands could wield a sword with that ease._

«Call my name, Shiro» the king asked, and the servant obeyed. He whispered His Majesty's name on his lips, Kuro's hands pressed gently against his cheeks and back against the cold wall behind him.

«We'll have to wash your clothes, your Majesty» Shiro commented a few hours later, laying down on the enormous bed in the king's rooms; the monarch's arm around his waist and his mouth pressed against his dark hair. «The blood will stain, and it will be hard to remove it later.»

«I'll just throw them away if the stain won't go away» the king murmured, caressing his hip. The servant nodded closed his eyes, a soft sigh leaving his lips.

 

A party had been organized, in the far away country across the sea. The invitation had arrived a month prior, in a fancy envelope that smelled like lilies. The king had laughed when he'd received the letter. «Don't you understand, my naïve servant?» he'd asked Shiro, seeing his confused face. «Lilies symbolize _purity_ and _innocence._ »

Then, the servant had understood, as His Majesty was anything but innocent or pure.

The king had accepted the invitation, and after a month he was dressed in his finest clothes made of purple velvet rich of laces, his dark magenta coat and his favorite heeled white shoes. His dark hair were pushed back, freeing his high forehead and highlighting his sharp cheekbones. He looked like the most beautiful creature on Earth, a God descended from the skies, able to make all the noblewomen at the party turn pale in astonishment and the noblemen green with envy.

By his side, Shiro looked like the filthiest of rats. He kept his head low, meekly following his Lord around the big hall, just barely listening to his chit-chats with other nobles. His Majesty was simply gorgeous, his dark eyes soft and mild, an almost shy smile decorating his full lips. He kept hiding his elegant hands in the big bell sleeves of his shirt, playing with the lace that decorated the hem like a small child would do.

Shiro ignored all the glances of the people around them, ignored the small, whispered comments about his king, ignored the dirty smiles and slimy touches that the aristocrats dared. However he couldn't ignore the intense gazes that the monarch sent to the local prince, the subtle smile that painted his lips.

The prince was gorgeous just a little less than king Kuro, with white hair framing his sun-kissed face and slim, warm eyes. His figure dressed in pure, white clothes, with long legs and broad shoulders and tapered fingers that looked like they were made to play the piano. Lord Lotor was his name, and he reigned over the lands by the sea. He was to become the new king of the Blue Land, as it was called. Shiro didn't know why.

The monarch kept looking at Lord Lotor, exchanging glances with him every time the prince noticed him, and smiled. After several hours of dances and talks and glasses full of exquisite wine, Lord Lotor moved closer to the king and bowed, smiling kindly. «I'm so glad that you made it here, your Highness» he said, rising his head. He was taller than the monarch by about four inches, yet he didn't show superiority. He knew his place, and the king seemed to approve that. «I would have never missed such a grand party, my Lord» he said.

Lord Lotor kept smiling and raised one of his hands, offering his palm to the monarch. «I asked my orchestra to play only the highest pieces in your honor, this night. I would be honored to dance with you, king Kuro.»

The monarch smiled, a true smile, that only Shiro had seen until then. Immediately, the servant felt his insides burn in envy and when the king accepted the invitation he had to turn his head to the other side to mask his disappointment and distaste towards the Lord.

His Majesty and Lord Lotor danced for what seemed hours, and even when they were breathless and tired they sat together at the dining table. Shiro looked from afar together with the other servants, his hands behind his back, but no matter what his insides kept burning and twisting unpleasantly.

«Shiro, Shiro!» the king called suddenly, and the servant rushed to his side, bowing his head to the _so annoying_ prince. «You called, your Majesty?» he murmured. He saw the astonishment on Lord Lotor's face as he saw his, comparing him to the beautiful monarch. «My, my, if this isn't a surprising view» he commented, supporting his head with a hand.

The king smiled maliciously and took Shiro's chin between his fingers, turning his face a little. «I was surprised as well when I first saw him. I thought it was some kind of reflected picture in a magic mirror that changed your clothes… I was such a dumb kid» he said, laughing quietly when the servant flushed embarrassed.

«You sure do look alike, your Highness» Lord Lotor commented. «I've never seen such gorgeous traits- had I not known better, I would have said that this  servant was His Highness' twin.»

«With all due respect, my Lord» Shiro intervened hesitantly. «But that is a serious offence to my master! No one can equal His Majesty in beauty!»

«Now, now, Shiro» the king called, letting go of his chin. «That wasn't very polite.»

«No, it's fine» Lord Lotor reassured him. «It was rude of me to put him in an awkward situation. My apologies.»

Shiro lowered his head, making the monarch laugh out loud. The servant hated him, but just for a short, short second. Lord Lotor smiled and turned his attention back to king Kuro, who'd pressed a hand against Shiro's waist. «Do you know, Shiro?» he asked, whispering in his ear. «Lord Lotor promised to marry me once the winter ends!»

The servant stiffened a little but he showed nothing on his face, faking a little smile. «That's wonderful, your Majesty.»

«It is» the monarch giggled, and supported his head with a hand. «I can't wait» he singsonged. Shiro curled his lips and bowed his head. «I shall go now, your Majesty» he murmured. The king nodded and dismissed him with a shake of his hand, his eyes fixed on the  Lord.

The servant went back to his position between the other servants, his head low and hands behind his back. The boy next to him giggled, and Shiro gave him a dirty look. «I'm sorry» the boy whispered, covering his mouth with a thin hand. «It's just weird to see Lord Lotor so engaged in a conversation.»

«What's so special about that man» Shiro whispered, turning his head. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the boy shrug with a sly grin. «Well- he's handsome, and rich too! He owns the biggest fleet of our continent, and those who join forces with him in a conflict always have the bigger hand.»

«You seem to like him too» the servant said, and the boy giggled. «I think you are the only one who doesn't like him, sir.»

Shiro didn't reply. Instead he fixed his eyes on his king and his companion. Hours passed like they were minutes, and before he knew it, it was past midnight. King Kuro's cheeks were flushed because of the wine and his eyes were glassy. One of his hands was grasping Lord Lotor's forearm, and his lips were bent in a drunk smile.

He seemed happy, Shiro thought. His insides twisted once more.

It was then that it happened; Shiro didn't quite remember how it all started, but once second the hall was filled with laughter and one second later screams could be heard. The servant raised his head and saw a poor man holding a dagger in his hands, face wet with tears and yelling desperately. «Death to the Son of Evil!» he screamed, sprinting towards king Kuro.

«Protect His Majesty!» someone screamed, but Shiro had already moved. His hand flew to the hidden pocket where he always kept a knife and held it firmly, putting himself between the assassin and the king. The man was clumsy and inexperienced with the dagger, and stopping him resulted being easier than he thought. He was strong, but so was Shiro; it still took two guards to stop him.

«Your Majesty!»

Shiro quickly turned around towards the monarch. King Kuro was on the floor, his face pale; Lord Lotor was holding him tightly, a furious expression painted on his face. «Take this man to the dungeons!» he ordered, voice firm and cold.

«He should be put to death immediately!» the king shrieked, pointing a finger at the man held by the guards. «He tried to kill me! He must pay with his life!»

«Your Highness» Lord Lotor called, standing. «That may be your solution, but we're not in your kingdom right now. He shall be punished according to our laws.»

The king's face became red in anger and he tried to stand on his feet, but his legs gave up and Shiro rushed to his side to support him. «He tried to kill the king! He should be hanged and left to the crows!» the monarch yelled.

«Your Majesty!» the servant cried, and he felt the king tremble between his arms. Shiro helped him stand straight and lowered his head. «I'm sorry, my Lord» he apologized to Lord Lotor. «My king must be tired and shaken because of what happened. I shall take him to his rooms.»

«Yes» Lord Lotor said slowly. «You shall. May you have nice dreams, your Highness.»

The king didn't answer; helped by Shiro he walked outside the big hall, his head low and body trembling; in anger or in fear, the servant couldn't tell. They reached the monarch's rooms and Shiro helped him get undressed and brought his white nightshirt.

The king curled under the jade green and golden duvet, his dark hair scattered across the cushion. Shiro sat on a chair nearby, tucking him in. He looked worn-out, weak, so different from the king everyone knew.

«Shall I bring you a cup of chamomile, your Majesty?» the servant asked, worried. The monarch opened his eyes and looked at him. «Come to bed with me. Just hold me» he whispered. The servant complied, getting rid of his dirty clothes and wearing his night attire.

Kuro didn't turn around when he felt him slip by his side, an arm around his waist. «You should sleep, your Majesty» Shiro whispered against his nape. The king shook his head. «I can't.»

The servant sighed, but didn't say a thing. He felt the monarch's fingers trace the veins on his hand, and he knew he was thinking. «What's on your mind, your Majesty?» he asked. «Use my name» the king mumbled, and despite everything the servant smiled. «What's on your mind, Kuro?» he asked again.

The monarch stopped playing with hands and stood still, thinking. «Do you remember when I told Lord Lotor about my first thought about you?» he asked in a low voice. «Yes, I remember» Shiro answered. Kuro sighed and turned towards him, playing with a strand of his hair. «That thought changed when I became king.»

«What did you think back then?»

It took a few seconds for the monarch to answer. «My grandmother once told me that at birth each soul is divided into two people; one person contains the good part of the soul, and the other one contains the bad part. I started to believe that it's what happened to us, and used it as an explanation for our identical looks.»

«With all due respect, but that's a dumb thing» Shiro murmured, and the king smiled slightly. «Yet everyone calls _me_ the Son of Evil, not you.»

«It's because I'm only a servant. I can easily pass as wallpaper at big events. You're a _king_ » Shiro reasoned, closing his eyes as Kuro played with his hair. «But you're good.»

«I'm not» the servant lowered his head, and his eyes became darker. «If you asked me to kill the man that threatened you, I'd do it this very moment and I'd kill every single guard that tries to stop me.»

His voice had gotten low and dangerous, and the king clearly looked surprised, as he'd never seen him like that. He stopped petting Shiro's hair for a few seconds, but then held him closer. «Don't kill him, Shiro» he ordered. «I don't want to insult Lord Lotor's courtesy.»

«If you order me not to kill him, I won't kill him» Shiro assured. He lay on his back and gently pulled the monarch over him, much to his surprise. The servant smiled sweetly and caressed his forearms. «Show me the good side you think you don't own, your Majesty.»

Kuro stayed still for a few seconds, too taken aback to move. Then, he smiled, lowering his head to kiss him on the lips.

 

«Lord Lotor's carriage should arrive in soon, your Majesty.»

«Is that so?»

«Yes, your Majesty. We shall start going.»

The king smiled at the mirror and played with a strand of his bangs that fell in front of his eyes, moving it aside. He was dressed in golden clothes, his embroidered shirt so white that it seemed to glow under the sunlight. Shiro helped him fix his coat and put his brown shoes on, smiling kindly. «You look breathtaking, your Majesty» he said lowering his head. «You'll shine so much that the sun will be ashamed.»

«What an adulator» the monarch laughed, holding his black cane and glancing a last time at his reflection. «But you're right. Let's go.»

They walked outside the room and reached the entrance of his palace. The king was beautiful, head kept high and back straight. Shiro stood a couple of steps behind, his hands behind his back. «Shall we wait here, your Majesty?» he asked. The monarch nodded. «A good host shall wait for his guests» he said, and the servant talked no more.

The carriage arrived after about half an hour later. Lord Lotor was dressed in dark, rich clothes, and his white hair was kept in place by a thin lace. He was smiling tenderly, and when he kissed Kuro's hand Shiro saw that the  king was smiling as well. «It's a honor to be here, your Highness» he said raising his head.

«And it's a pleasure to have you here, my Lord» the king answered. «I heard that organizing a marriage is extremely tiring. We should start as soon as possible.»

«As you wish, your Highness» Lord Lotor bowed quickly, and the monarch turned towards Shiro. «Have the other servants take Lord Lotor's luggage and bring it to his rooms as quickly as possible» he ordered, and Shiro bowed and ran away.

Once he'd communicated the servants the king's orders, he looked around for the monarch and the Lord. They were walking in the inner garden, side by side. The king looked radiant, a big smile across his face. At his side, Lord Lotor was talking quietly and smiling, his hands kept behind his back. A sudden blow of wind hit them and the king shivered, but before Shiro could reach him with a jacket -he always forgot it- he saw that the Lord had removed his coat and wrapped it around the monarch's shoulders. Even at that distance the servant could see him blush.

«His Majesty seems to be having fun» a girl murmured, stopping next to him to look at the scene. Shiro nodded rigidly and turned around, starting to walk as quickly as possible. «Is there anything missing from the kitchen? I was thinking about going to the market downtown, buy some fish… Lord Lotor comes from a country by the sea, I'm sure he'd like it.»

«Do you really want to buy fish to please him or to please the _king?_ » the girl asked, a small smirk painted on her  face. Shiro looked at her coldly. «You're being too bold, Allura. Please, keep that mouth of yours shut.»

«As you wish, sir» she mockingly bowed, holding the basket full of dirty blankets she'd placed on the floor. «We're missing spices, by the way. Buy some if you really intend to go to the market, and not just avoid the king with his guest.»

Shiro huffed and walked away. He quickly grabbed some money from the jar in the kitchen and his coat and left the castle.

The roads were full of people of all ages and countries. People with black, blonde and red hair, just as people with dark and pale skin could be seen inside the shops. The servant looked around, searching a fish shop or a grocer's for the spices, but he saw none. He kept walking and actually got distracted by the colors of a stand selling books, and then the smell of a flower shop, and before he knew it he'd got lost. The roads all looked the same and he didn't remember where he'd come from, and asking around would have been useless. He knew that people recognized the crest on his coat, and would never help someone from the castle. The distaste towards the king was that strong.

With a sigh Shiro sat down by the fountain, his head low and elbows resting on his knees. He looked around discouraged and spotted a group of people gathered together at the corner of a road, soft mumblings coming from them. He also heard the faint sound of a drum and a mandolin and, intrigued, stood up and moved closer.

A man -no, a boy- was dancing, his feet bare and a colorful veil around his hips. He had black hair, his bangs barely touching his sharp eyes. Golden pendants decorated his hair, and his  thin body was dressed in simple cream clothes.

He was beautiful, and elegant. A beautiful  peasant, dancing like the world around him didn't exist. Shiro asked himself if he wasn't cold -winter was getting close, yet he was barefoot. He wondered if he owned shoes. But again, it didn't seem that important, not when he looked so gorgeous, so ethereal, like he was made of thin air and dreams.

Shiro lost track of time. He never stopped looking at the  dancer, even when everyone else got tired and eventually left to return to their houses; he ignored his hurting legs, and the money that weighed in his pocket. The dancer looked at him for the time of a heartbeat and smiled sweetly, turning in a pirouette.

The servant had seen lots of dances, being the king's lackey. He'd seen slow, fast, drunken dances during his twelve years of duty. He'd been forced to learn how to dance, in order to meet the expectations. And yet that foreign, gipsy dance he was seeing was the most beautiful and incredible he'd ever witnessed.

The music finally ended and the dancer stopped, his chest rising and falling with heavy breath and an arm bent over his head. His hair was sticking to his forehead, but he looked happy. He sat next to the  girl that played the drum and talked to her in a language Shiro didn't understand, and she nodded.

The gipsy then raised his head and looked at the servant with his dark, sharp eyes, and he felt his cheeks grow warmer. «You've watched me for a long time» the dancer said, smiling. He had a strong accent, but his voice was gentle and just slightly low. Shiro nodded rigidly. «It's just… you dance beautifully» he stuttered. «I've never seen something like that.»

«Well, I'm glad you liked it» the dancer bowed his head, smiling. He then pointed at the crest on Shiro's coat, curiosity painted all over his  face. «You… come from the castle, don't you? I've seen that symbol on the city's doors.»

«Ah- y-yes, I do. I'm just a servant, though, I, ah… I must really go now, I have to buy fish and spices and it's already late» Shiro stuttered and quickly bowed his head, turning around, but the gipsy called him again. «Hey, _servant_. The fish shop and the grocer's are in that street.»

He pointed an elegant and thin finger to a small road behind him, a playful smile on his lips. Shiro felt his cheeks become warmer and warmer in embarrassment, and quickly walked past him. The dancer gently grabbed his coat, looking at him from his lower position. «The name's Keith. I dance every day from the fourth hour to the fifth and a half hour» he whispered.

Shiro lowered his head and smiled, nodding in understatement. «The name's Shiro. I shall come back to see you dance, then.»

Keith returned the smile, his eyes shining.

 

«You came back late» the king commented a couple of hours later, looking at him out of the corner of his eye. Shiro lowered his head. «I'm sorry, your Majesty. I got lost on the way.»

«The important thing is that you're back now» the monarch chirped. He then turned towards some other servants, their heads low. «Please, show Lord Lotor his rooms» he ordered. The Lord smiled at him and took his hand, kissing its back. «I've spent an enjoyable day with you, your Highness» he murmured. The king raised his head and smiled. «Have good dreams, my Lord. I shall see you tomorrow morning.»

Lord Lotor bowed and followed the servants. Shiro followed the king instead, walking faster when he told him to hurry. The servant decided not to mention that His Majesty was still wearing the Lord's coat.

They reached the king's rooms and the royal was quick to kick his shoes and throw himself on the bed, laughing and hiding his face in the sheets, his hair disheveled. The servant held back a sigh and put the shoes in their right place, closing the window -sure thing he didn't want the king to get sick. «Your Majesty, you should undress. You've been wearing those clothes all day long» he suggested, moving close to the bed.

The king had turned around and lay on his back, his hands covering his eyes, but he quickly removed them. «He said that he loves me» he breathed, and then laughed again.

Shiro felt an unpleasant weight oppressing his chest, and the smile he made was fake and pained. «I'm so happy for you, your Majesty» he murmured, making him sit straight and untying the silky bow tie around his neck. «Did you answer him back?»

«Of course I didn't!» the king pouted just like a little kid would do. «I let him propose and offered him my hand. A king should never humiliate himself like that!» The servant lowered his head and murmured a "I'm sorry, your Majesty", helping him undress.

The king sighed and turned on the bed, looking at his naked figure in the mirror. His hand reached his chiselled stomach and thin fingers tugged at the skin, watching at it turned slightly red after every touch. «I want winter to end soon» he sighed again.

«Winter hasn't started yet, your Majesty» Shiro noticed, folding his rich clothes in a pile. The monarch sighed again. «I want to marry Lord Lotor» he whined, sitting straight when the servant brought him a clean nightshirt. «What about your heirs, your Majesty?» he asked curious. «Doesn't the law say that the king has to marry a woman for her to bear his child?»

«What a nonsense» the king rolled his eyes. « _I_ am the law. And _I_ 'll marry Lord Lotor, and if he'll want children, I'll choose a whore or someone like that to give him little brats.»

Shiro nodded weakly and sat on a chair, his head low. «Wouldn't that hurt your feelings, your Majesty?» he asked quietly. The monarch shrugged. «As long as he doesn't betray me, it won't hurt. But if he ever betrayed me…» his eyes fell on the servant, his face austere. «It'll be your job to get rid of him, Shiro.»

Shiro bowed his head, his hands gripping onto his trousers' fabric. «As you wish, your Majesty.»

The king smiled and lay down, quickly falling asleep.

 

The gipsy arrived from beyond the mountains, from a small village by a river. The lack of food had forced him to leave, and he'd lived on the roads for years. His favorite color was green, like the fields in his homeland, and he loved profiteroles. He had one younger sister, but he hadn't seen her in four years. Probably would have never seen her again.

Shiro learnt all of that in two long weeks, as Keith stayed a few more hours than usual and talked with him. His gentle voice, his accent, his measured movements; everything about him was captivating and exotic, and beautiful. The servant soon found himself trapped in his imaginary web, yet he didn't fear this prison.

He started to spend more and more time at the market, running away from the palace at the first occasion he had. The king didn't notice, too engaged in Lord Lotor and their evolving relationship, and for him it was fine like that.

 _He_ was fine. And he was happy.

«How's the castle like, my Lord?» Keith asked, his voice soft while he carded his fingers through Shiro's hair. The servant wrinkled his nose and looked up at him. «You know I'm not a Lord, you dummy.»

«Oh, I do know. But to me you'll always be a Lord.»

The dancer smiled and pushed Shiro's hair away from his forehead, an expression of awe painted on his  face. «Is it true that you look just like the king of this land?» he then asked. Shiro let him play with his hair and nodded, but Keith's hands between his hair stopped his movements. «Yes, it is true. Everyone's always said that we're just two peas in a pod, it's been like this since we were both children.»

«I heard that the king is evil» Keith whispered. Shiro got serious all of a sudden and pulled back, hugging his knees. «Shiro?» the dancer called, sitting next to him with an elegant and fluid movement. The servant looked at him for a second only. «I don't like it when people call him that» he simply said.

«Because it's not true?» Keith furrowed his brows and crossed his legs, his eyes fixed on Shiro's face. «Or… rather because it is?»

«It is not!» Shiro snapped, but then lowered his head. «His Majesty is… just too naïve to understand when he's crossing a line» he whispered. The gipsy sighed and raised his head, looking at the sky. «Are noblemen so spoiled that they only see what brings them luck?» he murmured. Shiro didn't answer that question. Instead he stood up and brushed his clothes. «I shall go back to the palace, now, I'm sorry.»

«Mmh, it's fine. I have to go back as well.»

Keith stood up as well and smiled sweetly. After a few seconds he cupped Shiro's face and kissed him on his lips, smiling at his surprised face. «May the gods protect you on your way back» he whispered on his mouth, running away in an alley.

Shiro stood there motionless, his mind frozen and repeating that scene over and over. He raised a trembling hand and touched his mouth with the tip of his fingers, and felt his cheeks flush.

They were warm.

Keith's lips were warm.

 

A month passed quickly like that. Leaves started to fall from the palace's trees, and it got considerably colder. The days became short and the nights long, and the king started to wear his warmer clothes. He spent more and more nights together with Lord Lotor, and Shiro heard the most disgusting comments from the servants. He tried to ignore them as much as he could, suffocating the jealousy he kept feeling with every happy memory he had.

Keith was one of them. And his soft lips, his hands, his pale body under the moonlight, arching against the rough sheets of an old and creaky bed; his voice lost, mouth sunk between Shiro's hair and fingers gripping at his hips and back.

It had been a one-time thing. After that day, Keith stopped going to the square where he usually danced, and stopped meeting Shiro. The servant waited every day until he had to leave, but with no result. After more than a week he started to get really worried. He tried to ask the people who worked by that square, but no one was able to tell him where the gipsy had gone to.

«Maybe he ran away» said a man, piling some boxes. «Maybe he's dead» a woman replied, walking away quickly. Shiro swallowed hard and left the square, walking back to the palace.

 

The king was nervous, Shiro could tell just by looking at his body language. The monarch was tapping his fingers on the armrest, his head resting on his free palm and lips pressed in a thin line and eyes as cold as ice.

«Your Majesty?» Shiro called, hesitantly, moving a step closer. The king ignored him, his glacial eyes fixed on the man kneeling in front of him. «Did you find him?» he asked. The man nodded quickly, his callous hands gripping onto his ruined hat. «Yes, yes Your Highness. I-I saw him this morning at the market, Your Highness» he stuttered, trembling head to toe.

Shiro held back the instinct to raise an eyebrow, confusion painted all over his face. He sent a quick glance to the king and saw his scrunchy face, his lips bent in a disappointed pout and his eyes _burning_. He almost took a step back, and immediately lowered his gaze on the floor.

« _Where_ » the king demanded, voice ice cold. The man -that now Shiro recognized as the greengrocer- wheezed and nodded frantically, his eyes shut. «He-he was in the main square, Your Highness. He-he was meeting someone I believe, I didn't see his face but-»

« _WHO_ » roared the monarch, standing with fists so tight Shiro feared he might hurt himself. «Who was Lord Lotor meeting?»

The greengrocer whimpered and his eyes filled with tears. «He was with that gipsy boy from the country beyond the mountains, Your Highness!» he squeaked lowering his head. «With the boy who dances in that filthy and provocative way every day in the square by the fountain!» His eyes glanced up and he saw the servant, pointing a finger at him. «He was there too! He knows who the gipsy is!»

Shiro felt his heart sink deep down, his whole body froze and his head started to turn. He felt like vomiting, like falling to the ground unconscious, or better dead. He didn't. He stood still thanks to his willpower only.

The king was trembling, his eyes low to the ground and his teeth biting on his lower lip so hard that it turned white. «Guards» he called in a low voice, the armed men standing at attention with a loud clang. The monarch raised his head and his face was pale and unexpressive, his eyes empty of every warmth and human emotion. «Kill this filthy rat right now. I never want to see him again.»

«YOUR HIGHNESS I BEG YOU!» the greengrocer cried, tears running down his cheeks. The king never turned around, leaving the throne room through the passage he'd used when he'd had Lord Cha and all the noblemen slaughtered, Shiro a few steps behind. When the corridor ended and they entered the king's rooms, the servant stopped by the door.

The king was still trembling, his shoulders moving quickly following his labored breathing. His hands were white because of how tight his fists were. He then raised his head and Shiro shuddered seeing his bloodshot eyes. «HOW DARES HE!» the monarch yelled, hands clutching at his hair. «How dares that vile scum do this to me!»

He was livid- no, he was furious. Shiro looked speechless as the king threw an ancient vase to the floor, stepping on the shards and kicking them around. Then he prodded and ran to him, holding him by the shoulders. «Your Majesty, you'll hurt yourself-»

«Don't touch me!»

The king pushed him away and Shiro fell on the floor, a shard of the vase cutting deep in his palm, and the servant winced. Kuro was panting, his usually pale face reddened for the anger and hair disheveled. Shiro shivered in his place and lowered his head, fighting back his tears. «What do you want me to do, Your Majesty?» he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

The monarch, sent him a pained look and took a deep breath. His brows were still furrowed, his lips formed a thin, pale line, but he was starting to look like the king Shiro knew. A thin trickle of blood ran down his wrist when a shard of the vas had cut him, the red liquid falling down to the ground in tiny, little drops.

«I want you to kill that gipsy» he said, his voice firm. «I want him dead, and I want that coward Lord to know that it was I, king Kuro, who ordered for him to be.»

 

The night was cold. No moon could be seen, and the clouds covered the stars. Everything was dark and dead, the lights in the houses shaded by a thick layer of mist and humidity. Shiro kept his head low, his hands sunk in the pockets of his coat and hair kept in place by a dark lace. A hood covered his dark locks, and all his clothes were black. Black were his shoes, and his pants and his shirt. Black were his eyes and dark was his heart.

He followed Lord Lotor as he moved down the narrow streets of the city, making sure not to make a single noise. The dagger weighted against his hip, a cruel, cruel reminder of what had to be done that night. Shiro swallowed hard and looked as the tall Lord knocked at the door of Keith's house -he'd recognized it immediately; he'd been there before, he remembered with a bitter expression.

The gipsy opened the door and Lord Lotor moved closer, held his pale face between his long fingers and kissed him on the mouth. Shiro looked away, feeling his heart ache terribly while tears threatened to leave his eyes.

Lord Lotor and Keith disappeared inside the house, and didn't leave for a few hours. The servant waited and waited, hidden in a dark and filthy alley, a small, stray cat rubbing his tiny head against his thigh. Shiro distractedly caressed his back, eyes fixed on the door.

When Lord Lotor left, midnight had passed. The Lord turned around to kiss Keith again, murmuring something on his lips and caressing his dark hair. Keith murmured something back and kissed him again, and Lotor went away.

Shiro waited a few minutes in the dark, his gaze pointed at the alley Lord Lotor had disappeared into. Then he moved, leaving the kitten behind, leaving all of his feelings and innocence. He didn't knock- just kicked the door open. Keith jumped in his place on the bed, holding the hems of his white shirt close to cover his chest. When he recognized him, he opened his eyes wide and his sweet, sweet mouth formed a small "o". «S-Shiro… what are you doing here?»

The servant didn't answer. Instead he shook his head and moved closer, shutting the door behind his back. «I'm here under His Majesty's orders» he said, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible.

The gipsy's eyes grew even wider and pressed his legs to his chest, as to protect himself. «What does he want from me?» he whispered. Then on his lips a small, faint smile formed, and he bent his chest forward. «It's… it's just a joke, right? Of course it is… why would the king want something from me?»

Shiro looked at him with sad eyes, and reached for his dagger. Keith released a shocked wheeze and pressed a hand against his mouth. «S-Shiro…» he stuttered. The servant moved closer and watched as the gipsy pressed his thin body against the wall behind him. «You stole the king's betrothed, Keith» he said in a soft voice. «I have no choice.»

«You could let me go!» Keith exclaimed, tears starting to roll down his cheeks. «You could lie!»

Shiro bit his lower lip and shook his head hard. «It's not that easy!» he yelled back, pressing his hands against the sides of his head. «He's my _king._ I devoted my life to him, don't you understand? _I have no choice_!»

Keith sobbed and pressed his face against his knees, arms hugging his legs and dark hair covering his forehead. «I'm sorry» he cried, breath coming out of his lungs in short, trembling puffs. «I'm so sorry but please, don't kill me! I'll… I'll run away. I'll change my name and identity, I'll cross the sea and take vows so that Lord Lotor won't be able to marry me, but please let me live!»

Shiro lowered his head and bit his lip harder, holding back a sob. «I can't» he whispered, moving closer to him. When Keith tried to scream, he was quick to cover his mouth with a hand, pressing him against the bed and looking him squirm, kicking the mattress and trying to free himself.

 _A neat and clean cut through his chest,_ whispered the king's voice in his head. _Cut his throat and let him suffocate in his blood._

He held the dagger tight in his hand and Keith's chest, digging the blade deep in his soft, white skin, and watched as it turned red and warm. A pained, desperate muffled scream left the gipsy's lips and tears escaped his eyes, and Shiro felt blood against his palm when Keith coughed. He slowly removed his hand and Keith's unfocused eyes followed him, his breath thin and weak. «I-I…» he wheezed, every syllable coming out soft and slow. «I thought you loved me.»

The servant lowered his head and closed his eyes, pursing his lips in a thin line. He slowly brought his hands up to Keith's neck and squeezed. He saw the gipsy try to move again, struggling, breath stuck in his throat, and slowly stopped moving, hooded eyelids and a thin, wet line of tears that reached his temples.

Shiro's grip went loose and he groaned, struggling for breath and bending over the gipsy's dead body, he clutched at his shirt and cried hard, teeth clenched and whimpers coming out of his mouth. «I _did_ love you» he cried, against Keith's bloody chest. «I did love you, but I love him more.»

 

He returned to the palace when the sun was just rising, the sky at the horizon of a soft, pastel blue. He reached the king's rooms without thinking twice- he knew the monarch was alone that night. He thanked the fact that he met no one on his way there, as he was still covered in Keith's blood and he was sure that his face was pale and his eyes unfocused.

When he locked the door behind him, he noticed the king's sleeping shape under the heavy duvet, hair spread across the cushion and hands close to his face. He was breathing quietly, his shoulders raising and falling. Shiro looked at him with a sad expression on his face and quickly turned around, putting his open hands against his face. He took a deep breath, then two, then three. He walked to the bed, being careful not to get the duvet dirty with his blood, and kneeled in front of the sleeping king.

«Your Majesty» he whispered, moving a strand of hair from his face. The monarch mumbled and scrunched his nose, slowly opening one eye. «Shiro…» he said, sitting on the bed. The servant lowered his head and bit his lip. «I carried out your order, Your Majesty. The gipsy is dead.»

The king rubbed his eyes with a fist and looked at him, a glint in his sleepy eyes. «Is he really?» he asked, almost childishly. Shiro nodded slowly.

A small smile formed on His Majesty's lips, and he laughed. «I'm glad» he breathed. He then looked back at the servant and smiled fondly, patting the mattress next to him. «Come here, I want to sleep some more.»

Shiro shook his head. «My clothes are all…» he looked down, gazing at the dark brown patches of dried blood. Kuro just whined and lay down again. «Just take them off. I'm _tired_ , and I'm sure that you are too» he ordered, and the servant had no choice but to obey.

He slowly disposed of his clothes in a pile by the feet of the bed and lay next to the king, his body stiff and cold. The monarch whined again and grabbed his arm, pulling him closer and hiding his face against his chest. «Like this, you idiot» he mumbled.

A small smile rose to Shiro's lips and he held back a sigh, slowly dragging his fingers across the king's back. «I love you» he whispered against his dark, messy locks. Kuro hummed and hugged him back, nuzzling his nose against his ribcage. «I love you too, Shiro.»

The servant smiled and, when the king finally fell asleep, sighed deeply.

 

The voices about the dead gipsy started to spread among the folk; whispers could be heard in the queue at the flower shop, or at the grocer's. Voices about a killer that slaughtered prostitutes and innocents, a killer that brought the king's crest on his weapons, as the dagger left at Keith's place. The two lions carved on the hilt had left no doubts.

But another voice was starting to spread; a terrible, gruesome voice, and the soldiers that could be found in the streets seemed to confirm it.

The king had declared the attack to the country beyond the mountains. They were at war.

 

Shiro looked outside the window of the palace, his legs close to his chest and hands clutching the fabric of his pants. It was raining, heavy, big drops continuously hitting the glass and creating small streams down to the wooden frame. The rain was so thick that the lights of the city looked like pale, mystic flares. Like creepy, evanescent will-o'-the-wisps, they seemed to fluctuate in that dark, foggy night.

«It won't stop soon.»

The servant turned his head and saw the king walking towards him. His face looked pale, dark circles around his dark. He was wearing a simple robe and he was barefoot. Shiro quickly stood up. «Your Majesty, aren't you feeling well?» he asked worriedly, moving closer to him.

«I'm fine» the monarch answered, shaking his head. «I'm just… a little tired. This war is draining me, I hate all these assemblies. The Lords are all corrupted and a bunch of idiots, and they won't help me. Going on like this, we'll lose the war.»

Shiro hummed and gently put a hand against the king's forehead, feeling his tired eyes on him. He was warm and a little sweaty, dark locks sticking to his skin. «You have a fever, Your Majesty!» he exclaimed, withdrawing his hand. The king shook his head and sighed. «I'm _fine_. I have work to do now, documents to read, letters to send…»

«You can do that in bed, Your Majesty!» Shiro insisted. «It won't do any good if you faint in the middle of an assembly. Please, lie down just for an hour. I'll bring something warm for you to eat.»

Kuro looked at him, a little annoyed, but in the end he sighed and gave up. «You are so harassing, sometimes» he murmured. The servant smiled sheepishly and gently dragged him to the bed, helping him lie down. The king looked at him with furrowed brows as the servant tucked him in, and quickly grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him down for a kiss.

Shiro whimpered slightly against his mouth, trying to support himself over his elbows in order not to fall over the king. «Always so submissive» he whispered, releasing him. The servant smiled gently, straightening his back. «I'll bring something warm for you to eat, Your Majesty» he murmured.

The king nodded and lay down against the cushion, closing his eyes. Shiro looked at him for a few seconds, a sad expression painted over his face, and then left. When he came back with a dish of warm soup, the monarch was sleeping deeply.

 

The situation downtown was getting worse as days passed. Shiro could see the disappointment grow on the people's faces, the rage and the thirst of blood in their fists and kicks when they fought. They recognized him when he went out, as he had the king's crest on his coat, and looked at him with a dangerous expression.

They surrounded him once; kicked him in the stomach and punched him so badly that he had to be carried back to the palace by other servants. After that happened, the king had prohibited him to go to the market, and ordered all the other servants to never wear the crest on their clothes when they went out.

«This world is dangerous» he'd said hugging Shiro closer, caressing his bare back and sinking his lips between the servant's hair. «I don't want you to be injured by it.»

Shiro hadn't answered, closing his eyes and holding the king's hips stronger. He could feel it.

A new war was approaching, and he didn't know if they would have been ready by then.

 

«My Lord, everything is ready.»

Lord Lotor barely nodded, his gaze low and fixed on the small dagger between his hands. His white hair covered his face and a black coat made his body look slimmer and taller than it already was. «Perfect. We'll attack tomorrow» he said, voice cold as ice.

The servant behind him bowed and turned his back, moving a few steps, but the Lord called him again. «Lance.» He turned again, and saw that Lord Lotor's eyes were terrifying, piercing through him like a blade. «When the moment comes, don't hesitate a single second.»

Lance smiled weakly and lowered his head. «I won't, my Lord.»

He turned again, and this time the Lord didn't stop him. Instead he held the dagger tighter, his thumb slipping over the two lions carved on the hilt.

«Death to king Kuro» he whispered under his breath. «Death to the Son of Evil.»

 

Shiro woke up to the sound of screams the next morning. The drowsiness left his limbs and mind in just a couple of seconds and he sat straight on his old bed in the servants' room, looking around. No one seemed to be around. He quickly wore his pants and shoes and ran upstairs.

The palace was a mess. Servants and guards were running around in absolute panic, women crying and men searching items to defend himself. Shiro froze for a few seconds, his limbs refusing to move. When he finally did, it was to go to the window and look outside.

The sight made his breath stop in his throat and his eyes shot wide open.

The folk was revolting. The people invaded the streets with pitchforks and torches in their hands, screaming and yelling for the fall of king Kuro's reign of despair. «Death to the Son of Evil!» they screamed. «Death to the despot!»

And, in front of everyone guiding the uprising, there was Lord Lotor.

«His Majesty…» Shiro murmured, terrified. He quickly turned around, not glancing at the people around him a single time, and ran upstairs. The king- Kuro was still in his bedroom. He had to protect him, he had to-

He pursed his lips, holding back his tears.

When he opened the door of the king's rooms, he found the monarch just about to open his eyes. He weakly sat on the bed and looked at the servant, still drowsy. «Shiro..?» he murmured. The servant ignored him and rushed at his side, grabbing his arm and pulling out of bed. «We have to run away!» he exclaimed, supporting Kuro when he slipped on the fallen duvet. «Lord Lotor has… he's coming here and he's coming for you. We have to go!»

The king looked at him bewildered, trying to stand on his own feet. His forehead was beaded with sweat and his eyes looked unfocused, misty. «W-what do you mean» he whispered. He then closed his eyes for a second and he leaned to a side, stopped from falling by Shiro's grasp on his body.

He was weak. Too weak. The servant put a hand against his forehead and felt his too high body temperature. A desperate sigh escaped his lips. They wouldn't have been able to escape like that…

Unless…

A single tear left his eye, and Shiro smiled. He gently accompanied Kuro to the floor, supporting him. The  king was trembling, his body weak in fear and illness, his eyes foggy. The servant caressed his cheek and the monarch raised his head, looking right at him. «I'm sorry» he heard him say.

Kuro's eyes shot wide open at Shiro's smile, he raised a hand to touch his arm, but his limbs felt too heavy to move. «S-Shiro…» he whispered. The servant shook his head and stood, starting to get undressed. His shirt, his pants, his shoes. He took off everything and pressed the clothes against the king's chest. «Wear this, Your Majesty. Run away» he said gently.

Kuro froze. He looked at the clothes between his arms, then at Shiro, then back at the clothes. Then realization struck him, and a shocked gasp left his lips. «NO!» he yelled, looking at the servant, who quickly covered his mouth with a hand. «Please, Your Majesty. You must survive» he begged, voice soft and low, pleading.

The king shook his head, tears starting to run down his cheeks as he grabbed Shiro's forearm. «I don't want to leave you here!» he half-screamed against his palm, holding tight onto him. The servant held Kuro's face between his hands and wiped away his tears, smiling. «It will be like when we were kids» he whispered. «When we exchanged clothes and played "prince and servant". Do you remember, Your Majesty? We used to have so much fun, even though we were always reprimanded.»

_Those happy days won't come back, will they?_

Kuro sobbed and shook his head, holding his arm. «I don't want to!» he screamed. Shiro kissed him. Their lips soon became wet because of the tears, and the king's shoulders trembled even more than before, shaken by his sobs.

It seemed to last for hours, instead than just a couple of seconds. When Shiro moved back, Kuro was looking at him with a surprised and desperate expression painted on his face. The servant smiled, feeling his eyes water. «I'm sorry. This time, I dared. I've been selfish» he whispered.

«S-Shiro.-»

The king yelped when the servant picked him up and took him towards the fireplace. Shiro pressed a hand against the wall and a passage opened. They'd discovered it when they were kids and played around in the prince's rooms.

«I'm sorry if I couldn't maintain my promise of always staying by your side» Shiro murmured with a soft smile. Kuro shook his head and grabbed onto his clothes, crying out loud. «Don't! It's an order from your king, don't you dare leave me!» he yelled.

The servant put him down and kissed his forehead, moving back into the room. «I love you» he whispered, closing the passage and breaking the lever that activated it. He heard the king scream his name, and then the room fell silent. Shiro gritted his teeth and let the tears finally roll down his face, his fists hitting the closed passage as a raw cry left his mouth. He could feel the surface vibrate, probably because of the punches Kuro was throwing to the wall. «Please, go» he whispered weakly.

He let his sobs and tears die, and his breathing slowly calmed down. Now that he was far away from Kuro's body warmth, he felt cold. With a last, trembling sigh he stood and moved close to the wardrobe, taking a nightshirt. It smelled like the king, he thought with a sad smile. He then wiped his face and sat on the bed, waiting, keeping his face as neutral as possible.

An hour passed before the citizens made their way inside the palace. Shiro heard the screams of the servitude and the clangs of weapons, and then rushed steps upstairs moving closer and closer. The door of the room swung open and three armed men ran inside, their weapons pointed at him. One of them was Lord Lotor, his face cold as ever. «I think this is yours, _Your Highness_ » he said, raising the dagger Shiro used to kill Keith.

Shiro felt his lips twitch, and the blood in his veins felt like poison. He raised his chin and looked at the  Lord with the most detached face he could make. «Don't you _dare_ talk to me, you scum» he hissed.

Lord Lotor's face scrunched in disgust and he unsheathed  his sword, pointing it at the _king_ 's neck and drawing a thin, red line on the otherwise white skin. «The Son of Evil's reign is over» he whispered. Then the three men were on him, and Shiro lost his senses.

 

They put him in a filthy cell, with just a small, uncomfortable cot and a single window to let the air in. he was still wearing the king's nightshirt, but now it was all dirty. They didn't even let him take a pair of shoes.

Shiro looked outside the window, standing on his toes on the cot and gripping the metal bars. He could only see the remains of a statue laying on the ground, a few scattered pieces of wood. No one seemed to be around.

With a sigh he sat down on the cot, bringing his legs to his chest. He was cold and hungry, he didn't know what time it was nor the day, yet he knew that his time was coming. He could only hope for the king to be alive and safe somewhere.

The door to his cell opened, and Lord Lotor walked in. Shiro raised his head and looked at him with cold eyes. The nobleman looked tired but determined, his face serious and a hand on the hilt of his sword. «Your sentence has been decided» he said coldly.

The _king_ didn't answer, lowering his head again. He heard Lord Lotor move, balancing his weight from a foot to the other. «You'll be beheaded tomorrow afternoon at the third hour. Your execution will be public, and everyone will see the end of this reign of despair.»

Again, Shiro didn't answer. The Lord looked at him coldly, and then did something he didn't expect him to do. He kneeled down and looked at him, his hand leaving the sword hanging from his belt. «You're not the true king Kuro» he said in a low voice.

The _king_ felt his lips twitch but otherwise he remained impassive. Lord Lotor gritted his teeth and held one of his wrists, moving it from his body and made him fell over. «I know the truth! You're not that demoniac despot, you're the little servant! Where is the real king?!» he half-screamed.

Shiro looked at him with piercing eyes and freed his hand from the Lord's grasp, moving back. « _Don't touch me_ » he hissed. Lord Lotor grabbed both his forearms and pressed him against the wall, making him pound his head against it and whine for the pain. «If you don't tell the truth you'll die, don't you understand?!» he yelled.

«I don't care!» Shiro screamed back, fighting to free himself from the Lord's grasp. «If I have to die, I will!»

«It's not you who has to die!»

«I am! I'm the king of this land, I'm the Son of Evil. You've all been calling me that since you caught me, so I may as well be him!»

Lord Lotor looked at him with a pained expression painted on his face. Shiro was breathing heavily, fighting under him with his wrists blocked over his head. The Lord tightened his grip. «It was you who killed Keith, wasn't it?» he murmured.

Shiro didn't answer, but it must have shown on his face because Lord Lotor's became colder, and his free hand slid to the _king_ 's neck, squeezing it. «This is what you did, right?» he hissed, watching as Shiro wheezed, trying to breathe. «You strangled him until he couldn't breathe and you killed him. Isn't it right?»

Shiro kicked the cot under him, and the Lord finally let him go. He gasped and took deep breaths, holding his neck with tears in his eyes. He felt cold, his whole body was freezing and his mind was foggy for the lack of air.

Lord Lotor looked at him coldly from above, a disgusted expression on his face. «This is what you made him feel. This is how you killed him, following the absurd orders of a narcissistic despot that left you to die in his stead.»

Shiro looked at him with glassy eyes, a hand still on his neck and breathing a little too fast. «You think… you know His Majesty better than anyone else, don't you» he said weakly. «You're wrong. He may have done many terrible things in his life, but he's just like you. He's human, he has feelings, fears, ideals. Once the Son of Evil will be executed, he'll be freed of his burdens and will change. I'm sure of it.»

Lord Lotor made an annoyed noise turned around, walking to the door. «Think what you want» he murmured, sending him a last glance. «What matters now is that tomorrow you'll be dead, while your beloved king will live and ruin someone else's life.»

Shiro smiled weakly, his eyes glistening. «A head shall fall, tomorrow afternoon» he said, voice thick with emotions. «And we both know it doesn't matter whose head it is, as long as it has the king's face on it.»

Lotor stopped for a second, his head low. «At last the reign of Evil shall end anyway. Is this what you're saying?» he whispered. The _king_ shrugged. «How many guards did you and the folk kill, when you attacked the palace? How many innocent servants lost their lives, just because they worked for the king? Was there any peace to begin with? Was there any good in this sick, rotten world, before His Majesty became the ruler of this land?»

Lotor didn't answer. He couldn't find the words.

 

The next day arrived quickly. The air was heavy and suffocating, or at least so it felt to him. Two guards came to take him and put handcuffs around his wrists, they pushed him around and kicked him in the shins. Shiro bit his lower lip and let them play with him as they wanted. It was going to be over soon anyway. Every step felt heavy and difficult, as if weights were attached at his ankles.

They brought him to the main square, the same one where he'd seen Keith dance for the first time. A scaffold had been built and the headsman's block had been prepared. In front of it, stood the folk. Everyone was screaming, yelling with excitement and rage. «Death to the Son of Evil!», «Death to the despot!», «Free this land from Evil.»

Shiro looked around and his eyes pointed to the crowd, on the people's angry expressions. The guards pushed him on the floor and as his knees hit the wooden boards a pained whine left his lips. He saw Lord Lotor standing out of the corner of his eye, his cold gaze fixed on him, just the smallest tip of sympathy in his eyes.

He was cold. The once white and now dirty nightshirt he'd taken from the king's wardrobe was too light to protect him from the freezing temperature of winter, and he was still barefoot. He felt his knees burn and swell against the wooden floor because of the newly formed scratches. His mind was numb, empty. They'd even cut his hair, and now dirty uneven strands fell in front of his face, covering it as in a sign of shame. He didn't react when he felt the guards grab his arm and push him forward, making him lean against the headsman's block.

It was cold as well. Cold metal just under his chin, his upper body leant in an uncomfortable position while his legs started to hurt. The crowd's screams started to fill his ears and head, they were unbearable, they were too loud. He felt like crying and screaming and begging and then all over again. Tears threatened to leave his eyes and a suffering whine left his lips against his will.

«Look at our _powerful_ king!» someone from the crowd yelled, pointing a finger at him. «He's crying. Are you that coward, Your Highness? After all we've been through because of you?»

«You killed my son in that useless war of yours!» a woman cried, tears running down her angered face. «How dare you cry, after everything you've done?»

«This scum is just a weakling! He deserves to die!»

«How could we call him our king?!»

They kept mocking him over and over again, yelling disgusting dirty evil things. Someone threw a rock at him, then another one. Someone managed to hit him just above his eye and he whined again, hearing the crow laugh. A tear escaped his closed eye and he tried to raise his head, he wanted to look at the cold, pale sky of January for a last time, but a firm hand on his hair stopped him from doing so.

He saw the executioner approach with the axe in his hand, and the guard who was gripping his hair forced his head to face the crowd. He heard Lord Lotor read his crimes, and what he was being executed for. He stopped listening after hearing the king's name.

He thought about his life, as dumb as that was. He thought his early years, spent in a small village by the sea, and then the plague and his mother's death, the coldness of her dead body. He remembered the first time he went to the Capital and met the prince, and met his eyes full of wonder when they saw a person that looked just like him.

_«We're like twins! We can play together now!»_

The game had never been fair to him. Not when his opponent was the Crown's prince, not when he could have him killed with just a flick of his hand. Not when he'd threatened to have him beheaded when he ran too fast for him to catch him. And yet…

He thought about the first time the king asked him to dare, and he'd refused. The  monarch had looked so offended that he'd really thought he would have been beheaded that one time. But Kuro was just fourteen and a half at the time, and the threat had fallen into the void.

He then thought about the first time the king had looked at him with different eyes, with a weird awareness that had scared him. He'd stole his first kiss that day, his warm hands against his cheeks and his soft, sweet mouth pressed against his, leaving him breathless.

 

_«You could see the ocean from your house, right?»_

_«Yes, Your Majesty. It was just a few hundred yards away.»_

_«It must be gorgeous.»_

_«… Not as gorgeous as you, Your Majesty.»_

_He'd smiled. «You must take me there one day. It's an order.»_

 

Alas, he hadn't followed that order in the end.

A single tear left Shiro's eye, as Lord Lotor's reading tickled unpleasantly his ears. _Mom_ he mouthed to the sky, lips barely moving.

 

_After all, I don't want to die. I love him too much to leave him alone._

_I want…_

_I_ need _…_

_I want to see His Majesty's face again._

_I want to tell him that I've loved him from the first moment I lay my eyes on him._

_So please, just this time… let me see him again._

 

Lord Lotor eventually became silent, and exchanged a glance with the executioner. Shiro saw him take his axe with both hands and move closer, towering over him with his big, scary figure, his pale eyes visible through the gaps in his black hood.

_Is this the monster that children fear when they tremble in their small beds?_

«King Kuro» Lord Lotor shouted, and everyone in the square who'd kept insulting him finally shut up. Shiro raised his head slightly, looking at him out of the corner of his eye. «You have heard all the crimes you've tainted yourself with. For these repulsive acts you've committed, you shall now be executed, in order to bring peace and order back to this lands.»

The Lord's voice trembled a little while pronouncing the word "peace"; Shiro could only smile bitterly, listening to him talking. «Do the spectators have anything to say that may clear the king's name or further incriminate him?»

The crowd shouted and roared, and anything relevant that may have been said got lost. Shiro lowered his gaze, and felt the fist holding his hair tighten when he moved. Then Lord Lotor cleared his voice and the square fell silent again. «Does the convicted have anything to say?»

«Just kill him already!» someone yelled, and approving roars followed, making it difficult for the guards to calm the crowd down and to stop a few who tried to climb onto the scaffold. Shiro lowered his head and sighed, feeling dizzy. It was like he had no more air in his lungs and no matter how much he breathed, it was not enough. Answering Lord Lotor's question would have been useless, no one would hear him.

Lord Lotor's face was impassive as he nodded, looking at the executioner. The bell of the nearby church tolled for the third hour of afternoon, and the crowd instantly stopped talking, waiting impatiently. The _king_ opened his eyes, waiting for the end to come.

And then he saw him.

Beautiful and graceful, even with those dirty, poor clothes and a tear-stained face. His lips moving and hands clasped together in a silent prayer to a God who'd always been too cruel to listen. His hair now shorter and hidden under a filthy hood.

Even in sorrow, king Kuro was as beautiful as ever. The  fugitive raised his pale face and their eyes met, Kuro's lower lip. Shiro heard Lord Lotor hold his breath at his side and realized that he'd recognized the true king as well.

But it was too late.

_A head shall fall, and it doesn't matter whose head it is, as long as it has the king's face on it_

He knew it too well.

_It's just like when we were kids. Like when we exchanged clothes._

Shiro heard his name being called in the softest voice, a voice so sweet and loving that for a second he thought he was already dead, in his lost mother's arms. But then he saw Kuro's lips moving, chanting his name and other words that were too sweet and pure to be repeated even in his own mind.

And a secret promise.

That promise he'd made so many years before.

_We shall go to the ocean together, one day._

Shiro smiled and finally let the tears run down his face as the executioner raised the axe above his head. And, just before it fell, he said those words he'd heard so many times. The words he knew were dear to his king, as he'd heard him repeating them over and over in his sleep, when he was burning for the fever and his hands clasped around the servant's arm. And in them, those sentiments he hadn't been able to express fully.

_«You'll never leave my side, won't you?»_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yell at me on [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/petitkeef) and [Tumblr](https://petitkeef.tumblr.com)!! ^^


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